


Moonlight

by GlitterIbbur



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, F/F, Slow Burn, Vampire!Nicole, Wayhaught - Freeform, Werewolf!Waverly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7650604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterIbbur/pseuds/GlitterIbbur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out revenants aren't the only supernatural creatures in Purgatory. This story mirrors canon, albeit with differences: Nicole is a vampire who just wants to prove she’s a good police officer and Waverly is a werewolf who is desperate to gain affection from those who matter most. They meet, sparks fly, and Nicole is instantly smitten by the bartender who seems to radiate sunshine while Waverly can’t seem to get the rookie cop with a toothy smile out of her head. The realization that neither Nicole nor Waverly is who they seem might break them up before they begin, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I've been meanin' to introduce myself.

Nicole Haught had a lot to prove. She needed to prove her parents wrong; her mentors right; her value to her new boss; and, to herself, she needed to prove that she was capable of bringing the kind of good into the world she’d always thought she could. Her friends at the academy thought she was nuts for taking on the position at Purgatory. The town was named _Purgatory,_ for God’s sake, which _clearly_ meant that once she settled in she’d never leave. Purgatory was a tiny town in the wilderness with a death toll higher than some nearby cities. For Nicole, though, Purgatory was a welcome challenge. This little town offered her a rich history and a chance to make connections with everyday people that went beyond her uniform. Purgatory was a chance to help keep people safe, and there was nothing Nicole wanted to do more than that.

Which was why she’d come in to work half an hour early. She was awake anyway, so why not get some work done? She’d been in town for almost a month and had yet to do anything but push papers, eat a frozen dinner while watching TV, take her vitamins and bide her time before it was time to go work again. She knew she was green around the ears in a town that rarely had new faces, working in a beleaguered and underfunded police department for a gruff Sheriff who’d wanted someone experienced, and probably male, to work for him. But she was _good_ at what she did. She had the potential to be a great cop and the tenacity to make it happen. She’d passed every test thrown at her with flying colors and had got along with her classmates and her instructors. There was no good reason why she was being treated like a glorified secretary. The boredom made her antsy.

 _Inhale._ She was going to be great at whatever she did, even if it was just filling out reports. _Exhale._ She had to start somewhere. _Inhale._ She picked up the next file off of her desk and slid it open on the desk. She began to scan the page before her light was blocked by a large figure looming over her. 

“Nicole.” It was her boss, Sheriff Nedley. He looked neither happy nor sad that she was working before her scheduled shift. “There was a disturbance at Shorty’s Bar last night. Someone reported shots fired, but nothing was called in. Why don’t you go check it out?”

A wide, relieved grin broke out on Nicole’s face. _Finally_. “Sure thing, Sheriff.”

Nedley nodded as she stood up and grabbed her cream-colored Stetson. It was early but the sun was already bright overhead. Sunscreen alone wasn’t enough to protect her from the harsh mountain sunlight. 

“Ask around, see if there’s a report to file,” Nedley instructed. “The owners of the bar are, uh, friends of mine. You can never be too careful.”

“Right," Nicole said, fiddling with the brim of her hat while she waited for Sheriff Nedley to continue.

“You’ve been here a month, Nicole,” Sheriff Nedley said, softer now. “It’s time for you to mingle and learn the town and her folks. Shorty’s is the place to do it. You’ll be wantin’ to meet Waverly, Waverly Earp. She’s the bartender. Nicest girl you’ll ever meet. G’on now.”

Nicole nodded briskly, flashed Nedley a smile, and walked out the door before he could change his mind. The walk to Shorty’s was five minutes, tops, and she could use the exercise. And maybe some coffee. 

There were a plenty of things Nicole was expecting when she pushed her way inside, but a tan girl about her age with bright hazel eyes and a beer-soaked tank top pulled down over her bra was _not_ what she was expecting. Whatever Nicole had intended to say got lodged in her throat. 

“Perfect!” The girl—Waverly—huffed, bracing one hand on the counter while the other flipped in resignation. 

“I didn’t know Shorty’s had wet t-shirt competitions.”

Well. As far as opening lines went, it could have been worse. Waverly jumped at the sound of Nicole’s voice, swinging around to look at her with her mouth agape.

“You okay?” There was mirth in Nicole’s voice.

“Yeah. Yeah! I, uh… just a bit jumpy. Had… a crazy night.” Waverly pressed a clean rag to her stomach, half embarrassed, half amused.

“Sorry I wasn’t here to see it,” Nicole chuckled. Crazy night. She was there to ask about that. But the butterflies in her stomach had other things in mind.

“I’ve been meanin’ to introduce myself,” she said, sticking her hand out for Waverly to shake. Her hand was hot and electric. “I’m Nicole. Nicole Haught.” She tipped her chin at Waverly and Waverly responded with a toothy grin and a smile that made her eyes look like two half-moons.

“Hi,” she breathed.

“And you are Waverly Earp,” Nicole continued, “Quite a popular girl around here.”

Waverly preened. “Oh, you know, it’s all in the smile and wave!" 

“Yeah.” Nicole smiled at her for a beat too long. Recovering quickly, she asked for a cappuccino to go. So she could get back to the station. To do her job. And tell Nedley that Waverly—who was _absolutely_  wonderful—knew nothing so he should check in with his friends later.

“Oh, I’m really sorry. Um, we’re not actually open yet, so…” Waverly gestured apologetically at the dim room with upside-down stools on the tables.

“Oh!” Nicole looks around as though she’s only just noticed the bar was closed. Because she had. “Right! Okay! My bad. It’s just,” she leaned forward, looking up into Waverly’s eyes, “when I see something I like, I don’t wanna wait. And your door was open. So.” She smiled triumphantly. _Smooth._

Waverly’s eyes glazed over as she stared at Nicole. “Right…” she shook herself out of her reverie and pressed the rag to her stomach as though she was trying to hold herself in. 

“Oh, God, I’m sopping wet,” Waverly said, blotting her shirt in an effort to dry it. “You know, I keep telling Shorty he needs to fix the darn taps.” She waved her rag at them in exasperation before turning back to Nicole.

“Sorry, do you mind just, uh…” she twirled her finger at Nicole. “I’m gonna… wear a hat so…” At Nicole’s confused look she mimed covering her eyes, which Nicole mirrored— _right. Whoops._

Nicole spun on her barstool, turning her back to Waverly. After a moment, she heard a tearing sound and then:

“Oh! Oh, crap! Uh, Officer? I’m stuck, so…”

Waverly was indeed stuck, her arms caught above her head and a sheepish grin on her face. “Please?” 

“Oh!” Nicole sprung into action, jumping off of her stool with a laugh. “Here, let me help you. I got you.” She circled around the bar, standing toe-to-toe (but not eye-to-eye) with Waverly. Nicole slid her hands under the wet material of the shirt and helped pull it over Waverly’s head.

“Oh, God!” Waverly laughed too. “Good thing you’re not some guy, right? Or this would be really, _reeeally_ awkward.”

Nicole just smiled at her. Now that she was closer, holding Waverly’s shirt, she could smell her: honeysuckle and light summer air. It wasn’t just her hands that were hot. She radiated heat and charisma like she was drenched in sunshine. If Nicole had words, they died on her tongue. All she wanted to do was move closer. She could almost see Waverly’s pulse flutter in the crook of her neck. They held each other’s gazes for a moment before it was all too much for Nicole. She ducked her head bashfully.

“Um, I-I owe you one.” Waverly’s voice was low and soft. She clutched the wet shirt to her chest.

“Alright,” Nicole nodded. “Well, why don’t you buy me that cup of coffee? How about tonight?” She quirked her head and smiled her most charming smile. 

“Oh! I can’t!” Waverly’s answer was too quick and it made Nicole’s stomach plummet. “I mean I’d love to, but—like, like to, uh…”

Hope bubbled at Waverly’s slip. 

“—But I have plans. Yeah. I’m a planner!” 

Nicole licked her lips, too focused on Waverly and the fact she’d _love_ to buy her coffee than the words she was actually saying. Her next sentence, though, she heard: 

“I’m in a relationship!” Waverly steadied herself. “With a boy. Man!”

Nicole raised her eyebrows, her voice sultry like honey. “A boy-man?”

She pulled away, bouncing on the balls of her feet towards the other side of the bar. Of course she was dating someone. But Nicole wasn’t disappointed—there was hope for something, at least, in their immediate chemistry. 

“Yep, I’ve been there,” Nicole chuckled. “It’s the worst.” She let those words hang pregnantly in the air for a moment before chirping, “Okay! Well, some other time.”

Nicole dropped her business card on the counter, grabbed her hat, and walked towards the door. She turned back to smile at Waverly, who was looking at her with a dreamy smile and charmed eyes.

“I mean it.” Stetson secure on her head, Nicole walked towards the front door—but not without another shy grin at the still-staring Waverly.

Once outside, Nicole took a moment to shake herself loose. What even _was_ that exchange? She’d been drawn to people before but nothing like that, and never with that kind of magnetism. Waverly was incredible. She took her breath away. She was a flare in a dark, cold and empty room, and maybe a spark in Nicole's dark, cold and empty life. The intensity of their conversation frightened Nicole. Attraction so sudden often ended with trouble.

But no. It would be different. This would be different. She would be different. Nicole steeled herself as she trekked back to the station. She was in control. Waverly was magnetic, but she wasn’t irresistible. 

      As she rounded the corner to cross the parking lot into the police station, her phone buzzed. Nicole fished it out of its case on her utility belt and checked the caller ID. 

 _Shit._ Why were they calling now? What had she done? They weren’t supposed to check in for another week at least. Had something happened?

Any thoughts of Waverly drained from Nicole’s mind. She answered the phone with a hushed: “T-this is Nicole. How may I help you?”

“Nicole!” A bright and too-loud voice answered. Nicole winced and held the phone farther from her ear.

“Hi honey, how are you doing? It’s Jo Murphy, your case worker with the Organization of Vampires in Public Service. Everyone in the office is _thrilled_ for you getting placed in a real police department so we just couldn’t wait to check in!”

Oh. _Right._


	2. Needing to be seen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the interest in this story! Y'all rock. :)
> 
> If anyone is interested in beta reading, please let me know?

Waverly was wandering through the grocery store when she got Wynonna’s first text. And her second. And third. By the time she had finished shopping, waited in line, and paid, she’d lost count of how many times her phone buzzed against her hip. She received another three texts in the time it took her to carry her groceries to her jeep, and another two as she sat down and twisted the key in the ignition. 

“What could you _possibly_ want, Wynonna?” Waverly pulled out her phone and scrolled through 28 unread messages, all from her sister. The first one read: _hey we need to talk._

The second one said: _come here don’t go upstairs_

The third: _by here I mean the homestead_ followed by _by upstairs I mean your place at Shorty’s_.

The texts then escalated to: _WHY AREN’T YOU HERE YET?, THIS IS IMPORTANT, WAVERLY YOU NEED TO COME RIGHT NOW_ in rapid succession.

A few minutes had passed before Wynonna started texting her again, exasperated this time. _If you’re doing your hair I swear to god._

_It’s okay if you are just please let me know where you are? Like right now?_

_Oh my god are you with Champ?! He’s a douchebag, Waves. Break up with him right now and then come over here._

_It shouldn’t be taking this long, please stop paying attention to him and come see your favorite sister instead._

The latest text was a vague denouement of: _you’d better not be dead or kidnapped. come to the homestead right now. Shorty’s isn’t safe. where ARE you? It’s been 30 minutes!_

Waverly rested her forehead on the steering wheel. She was beyond thrilled her sister was back, of course. She loved Wynonna, despite her sister's lifetime achievement award in making it really hard for people to love her. Wynonna was her sister and that meant something. It meant everything. Family was important to Waverly: it’s why she clung to every scrap of her family’s history she could dig up. If she knew them from the ripples they left behind, she could keep their memories alive. Wynonna, however, in spite of being Waverly’s only living blood relative, was somehow the slipperiest one. Fifteen years of broken promises and three years of absence made Waverly feel hollow around her sister, like Wynonna was a stranger within the ghost of someone she used to know better than herself.

Wynonna was like a tornado: she’d roll into town, unannounced and uninvited, wreck everything in her path, and then claw her way out before any real consequences could catch up with her. Waverly knew Wynonna loved her back, but her impulsivity, hatred of authority and inability to let things go meant she was gone before Purgatory’s dust had a chance to settle around her suitcases.

And Wynonna wasn’t really there, anyway. Ever since the night Daddy and Willa died, Wynonna was only half present. When they were younger, she was drugged into a state of compliance. Off her meds, she was drunk. And sometimes, she just wasn’t there. Now that the curse, their family’s fucking _curse_ , had started again, Wynonna was always focused on the hellspawn hell-bent on killing her and her duty as the least prepared Earp heir in history. Which Waverly wasn’t pissed about, like at all. If only Wynonna would let her help. If she would just let Waverly shine with the knowledge she’d spent three years accumulating instead of keeping her useless in the shadows out of guilt and fear, Waverly knew she’d be able to prove her worth. She hated being shut out.

But no. Nope. Nuh-uh. She’d _always_ be the annoying little sister. _Always_. She’d just get 30—31—cryptic and increasingly anxious text messages telling her to get to the homestead _right away_.

With a prolonged sigh, Waverly shifted the car into reverse. _I’ll be right there, Wynonna. I was only at the grocery store._

She tossed her phone on the passenger seat and peeled out of the parking lot. She saw her phone light up three more times in her peripheral vision, but she didn’t bother checking it.

Waverly’s alarm went off right as she pulled up to the homestead. She silenced it and then dug in her purse for her birth control and the pills the blacksmith-slash-folk-healer Mattie made for her. She swallowed them dry before hopping down from the jeep. It took Waverly seconds to jog to the front door, her neck itching from where the noose had cut into her only days before.

The front door was open, its lock broken for a decade and a half. The living room was stifling, its stale air choking Waverly as she crossed over the threshold. It was stuffy and _bad_ in the house, owing to years of neglect and general malaise. Leaves, dirt and animal feces littered the floor. Dust was thick in the air and over every surface. It smelled foul, like something had died under the floorboards. Waverly heard clanging in the kitchen, which must have been Wynonna because only Wynonna could make waiting around sound so angry. With a resigned sigh, Waverly stomped towards the kitchen.

“Hey! I got all 34 of your texts! What gives?” Waverly gestured to her phone. The screensaver flashed in her peripheral vision. It was a brand new picture of her and Wynonna standing cheek-to-cheek and squinting against the sun. Wynonna had secretly made it her lock screen while Waverly was signing Gus’s discharge papers a few mornings ago. It was the seal to Wynonna’s promise that she was staying for real this time, that she’d be around long enough to be tangible again. Waverly couldn’t bear to change it back.

Wynonna sauntered over to Waverly. “Your apartment has been broken into,” she informed her. “You can’t go back.”

“Uh, what?” How could she not go back to her apartment? She had _stuff_ there. It was her place! _Her. Place._

“My yoga mat is there!” Waverly protested. _And literally_ everything _else,_ she added silently _._ Shit. Who had broken into her apartment? Why? What had happened? How did Wynonna know? _Shit._

“It’s not safe,” Wynonna explained. Her voice was weary now. “And neither is Gus’s or Shorty’s or the back of Champ’s pickup truck. For the record: ewwww!”

Waverly resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 

“This place used to be,” Wynonna continued. She touched a dusty, dangling windchime. Rainbow triangles hung from the bottom. Waverly remembered sitting under them for hours, watching light bounce off and color her drab world. “Do you remember? This was a _home_ then.”

Waverly looked around the filthy room as though she’d find memories of being at home hiding under the dustsheets. She didn’t remember her years there like Wynonna did. Waverly remembered living in the little house. She remembered coloring. She remembered her parents fighting, their acrid words slung drunkenly from room to room. She remembered Willa locking her in the silver-lined storm cellar. She remembered picking wildflowers. She remembered being left alone a lot, making up imaginary friends who would read her favorite books to her. She remembered, after Willa’s 14th birthday, telling anyone who would listen what she wanted for _her_ birthday in August and then waking up and getting nothing but a card scribbled in crayon and a big plate of scrambled eggs from Wynonna. Uncle Curtis far made up for that in later years, but it still stung that her dad didn’t bother to remember her birthday at all.

Waverly didn’t know what home was until the summer before she turned nine and Wynonna was allowed to stay with her at Gus and Uncle Curtis’s, and the three people who loved Waverly most sat down to eat together without yelling or throwing anything. From then on, living with Curtis and Gus was home. Then home was the apartment above the bar where Champ had presented her with a hat rack that said _home_ on it the first night she spent there. Home was also at her desk with her big fancy computer, researching quirky history or ancient languages for a paper in one of her correspondence courses. Home was free beer and gruff encouragement from Shorty after a grueling shift.

Home wasn’t this foreboding place. It wasn’t a home in the six years Waverly had lived in it. But Waverly would sure as hell try to make it one now for Wynonna’s sake. She loved her sister more than she hated the homestead.

Deputy Marshall Dolls appeared suddenly in the doorway, breaking Waverly from her sour mood. His eyes flickered from shadow to shadow as though analyzing the house’s strengths and weaknesses and potential for demonic activity. He wondered aloud how the revenants had managed to invade the homestead when they never had before the night of the attack. Then he cut off a piece of the windchime, hypothesizing that if it was the mineral he thought it was, it could ward off the revenants and explain why her ancestors had settled in the middle of nowhere and built a house held upright by prayer. Waverly tried to make a joke about how run-down the house was, which fell flat to the _ever_ -impassive Dolls and preoccupied Wynonna. _Aaaawkward._

She’d never win. Better to go wait in the car than deal with being the only one in the room who wasn’t on the same page.

Once inside the jeep, Waverly pulled out her phone and fiddled with its case. She put music on. She typed out a list of cute date ideas. Finally, she texted Champ. He was trusty even though he was usually more trouble than he was worth. But they’d been going solid for almost six months now, a record for their on-again-off-again relationship.

 _Hey boyfriend!_ Waverly wrote. _What are you doing tomorrow night? I’m moving back in with my sister, and I wanna hang out with you before I live thirty whole freaking minutes away from town._

When Champ didn’t answer immediately, Waverly let her phone fall to her lap. She groaned and rested her head against the steering wheel. She twisted the tassels of her shirt together. After a few minutes, her phone chimed.

 _Uhh,_ Champ’s text read. _That’s weird. Why would you do that?_

Waverly sighed and tapped out a response that sounded too chipper even for her. _Oh, you know! Sisterly bonding time now that Wynonna’s back!_

 _Waves, is that a good idea?_ Champ’s response was immediate. _You were so sad for so long last time she left you. Nothing could make it better._

Waverly’s face burned with guilt and gratitude. _No, you totally made it better, babe. Remember when you tried to cook me a whole brisket?_

_HA I almost burned down your aunt and uncle’s place, and Gus threatened me at gunpoint to ever try to cook there again._

There. A happy memory.

_So… what are you wearing?_

Waverly laughed and played with the tassel at the end of her shirt. Champ might be dense, oblivious, over-gel his hair and be an easy target for other women to seduce, but at least he was unabashedly into her. At least with him she could forget everything bad and just have fun.

_Super short shorts, and that shirt with the tassels that makes my boobs look great._

_Mmmmm, I’m sure they do. Your boobs always look great._

Waverly grinned and plucked her neckline. _Yeah they do._

_Hey, no disrespect to your boobs, but I really need to study if I’m gonna pass the prelim law enforcement exam this time. Text me when to pick you up tomorrow, k?_

A sharp rap at her window startled Waverly before she could reply. It was Dolls.

“Earp, go inside,” he said. “Your sister needs to discuss next steps with you.”

With an eyeroll, Waverly trudged inside. Champ never changed, so he could wait.

* * *

 “Wipe that stupid grin on off your face and help me get to work,” Wynonna said without looking up from where she was crouched under the fireplace, running her fingers over unfinished stone. “We’re looking for something ‘occult-ish.’”

Waverly ignored her first comment with a sniff as she walked towards the kitchen.

“Okay, so what _exactly_ are we looking for?” She peered under a dustsheet as though something occult-ish would be sitting conveniently on the kitchen table.

“Something strange and hard to explain, like your relationship with Champ!” Wynonna flicked Waverly’s elbow.

“Hey!” Waverly chased after her sister. “You’re hardly qualified to give relationship advice! ‘Member that guy with the satanic face tattoo?” Waverly did: he showed up to her twelfth birthday party with a pirated copy of _Transilvanian Hunger_ and real fireworks. 

“Look, Waverly!” Wynonna cooed. She pointed to a beam with different lines in pen along the side. “Willa, age 10. Wynonna, age 7. Awwww. I was so little.”

“I’m not on there, am I?” Bile burned in Waverly’s throat. Yet _another_ reminder of how this place had never been a home for her.

“Probably rubbed off.” Wynonna was too distracted by her nostalgia to be sympathetic.

“That’s what I used to tell myself,” Waverly muttered.

 _Click click._ The lights flickered twice before shutting off completely.

 _Fucktrumpet_. Waverly really, really hated the dark. She tapped her flashlight and turned it on and then off and then on again to no avail. She rubbed her palm along the top to warm it up, but still, it didn’t work. Wynonna took a phone call and walked back in a moment later, pulling Waverly close.

“Hey, what do you say about an old-fashioned cookout?”

Waverly drew her eyebrows together. “Well, no one’s cleaned the fridge in _at least_ fifteen years _and_ there’s no electricity so unless you wanted to eat cold beans in the dark, what else were we gonna do?”

“That’s the spirit!” Wynonna clapped her on the back, hard, and went to fetch firewood from the pile out back. Waverly walked to her car and picked through her groceries under the light of her phone. It was eerily dark, the way it got before storms sometimes. But this didn’t feel like a storm.

“Some warning would have been nice,” she grumped. “I’d have gotten hot dogs, or something. At least it’s cold enough that nothing’ll spoil until I can go home and put them away…”

Wynonna returned a moment later with firewood, chairs and blankets. She smiled at Waverly, but even in the dark Waverly could see that the corners of Wynonna’s mouth stayed terse.

They built the fire together, making a tent with kindling underneath like Daddy had taught them. Waverly suddenly remembered sitting on Wynonna’s lap on a bright, muggy night, so unlike this one. Her hands and face and hair were sticky with marshmallow. That was the night she learned about the curse, her Daddy’s voice booming as it carried through the thick air. He was strong and sure. Willa sat next to him, ramrod straight with a puffed-out chest. And a shadow of a person was on his other side, probably her mom. God, Waverly couldn’t have been more than three. That was before… before everything.

“Wynonna, do you remember that campfire we had where Daddy told me about the curse?”

“No,” Wynonna frowned. “I don’t remember ever learning about the curse. You do?”

Waverly played with the edge of her blanket. “Yeah, I was really young. We all sat here, you, me, Willa, Mom and Daddy. It was the first time I ever had marshmallows.

“Oh!” Wynonna smiled and it finally included her eyes. “I remember that! You ate a million and were so sticky I didn’t even need to carry you to your bath, you stuck to me on your own.”

“Okay, first off, that is _so_ not fair.” Waverly grinned sheepishly. “I was _little._ ”

She and Wynonna lapsed into silence after that. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but Waverly could hear the gears in Wynonna’s head turning and it burned not to know why. She wasn’t dumb: she knew something was coming, and every quick glance Wynonna threw to the shadows confirmed it.

“So… who was on the phone with you before, in the house?”

Wynonna shifted in her seat. “Dolls. He said we’re looking for a talisman, some bones and wire? That was before someone pushed fast-forward on the sunset.”

Waverly waited for Wynonna to continue, but she didn’t. So, Waverly did what she always did when the people around her were preoccupied with things they refused to tell her about: she said uplifting things to get their attention.

“Hey Wynonna, remember that time we rolled down the hill and got covered in grass stickers?”

Wynonna cracked a smile. “Haha, oh yeah. Willa combed our hair for _hours._ ”

“And remember that time we built a fairy house and had tea? Even Daddy came.” Waverly remembered drinking lemonade out of a chipped teacup, squished in next to her dad while he sipped whisky from his.

“Oh yeah! You had a skirt with flowers on it. Remember the puppet show?”

“About Wyatt?” Waverly had drawn a little Peacemaker to glue onto a sock puppet.

“Yep! That’s the one! We had fun, didn’t we?”

Waverly flushed. “We did. There are good memories here.” _Too_ , she added silently.

“Yeah…” Wynonna sighed happily. “Remember when Daddy finally figured out how to keep us all safe after Momma left?”

Waverly stiffened. Her heart skipped a beat, lodging itself in her throat. Waverly remembered. She remembered all right. She remembered getting grabbed by the scruff of her neck. Thrown down in the storm cellar. Alone. The echoing scrape and clang of the silver door being barricaded. Pain, the feeling of her bones shifting and skin stretching and hair growing. Hearing her sisters playing on the ground above her. Darkness so dark it threatened to choke her. Jumping to escape and getting burned on the door. Not knowing when it would be over. Waking up to sunlight, pulling herself naked out of the cellar and washing up alone while Wynonna and Willa were at school.

“He locked me in the _cellar,_ Wynonna.” Waverly growled. “Every. Single. Month.” Anger choked her, clouding her senses and preventing her from elaborating.

“Oh,” Wynonna murmured. “I forgot that’s why.”

Waverly held herself rigid, waiting for Wynonna to make excuses for their father. She bit her lip until she tasted blood and dug her nails into her arm so she wouldn’t scream or reach out to hit Wynonna. If only it was light and she could see the faces Wynonna was making, because the damn darkness and silence gave her no freaking clue.

“You _forgot?_ ”

“You… you never bother anyone about that,” Wynonna muttered. “Ever since Curtis took you to that witch doctor and she gave you those pills to stop your cycles, no one had to worry.”

Waverly was so hurt that the rush of blood to her head made it difficult to hear anything Wynonna said after that. Even the campfire’s crackles sounded muffled. Waverly closed her eyes and willed herself to relax. _It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t his fault. It was my fault._

“God!” Waverly gritted her teeth, determined to change the subject and get back the less uncomfortable silence from before. “How can it be dark already? It’s 4 o’clock in the afternoon.”

Wynonna deflated beside her. “It’s Purgatory,” she joked. “Wait twenty minutes and we’ll be slathering on the sunscreen.”

“And the talisman? What did Dolls say about it being…”

“Buried in the ground,” Wynonna said.

“Buried.” _Wait_.

A memory slammed into her. Sitting in the dirt, the scratches and bite marks on her arms and legs itching. Dry autumn darkness around her, the waning moon low overhead. A lamp cast a low glow over the ground. She was passed a shovel, and a slick voice told her to make a hole for their friend—a bundle of bones—so that her family would be happy again. The shovel was unwieldy in her small hands, but once bones were in the ground everything would be better. She’d have made everything better.

“Good job, Waverly.” Her friend’s voice was closer than ever now. “Come here, let me see your loose tooth.”  

_Bobo._

“Bobo,” Waverly breathed. “The name of my imaginary friend growing up: Bobo!” 

_You’re so strong, Waverly. One day you’ll be stronger than your daddy._

_The power inside you is special, Waverly. Your sister is mean because she doesn’t understand. Your mom left because how could one so small be so important?_

_You’ll be the key to everything, Waverly. One day you’ll be fast enough to run with me._

_Do you feel it, getting stronger? Tomorrow night you’ll be at the height of your power. Breathe in, feel it starting now._

_No, no, don’t cry. Let me, you’ll hurt yourself. He just doesn’t understand, Waverly. Not like I do._

Waverly felt calloused thumbs against her cheeks, brushing away tears that had fallen fifteen years ago. “…and I’m starting to think he wasn’t so imaginary.”

The words had just left her lips when the campfire blew out with a _whoosh_.

“Oooooh god, that’s super weird,” Waverly moaned. It was here, whatever _it_ was. “What’s going on?”

Wynonna mumbled something about the generator. She got up, clutching Peacemaker, and strode towards the barn. She wasn’t scared, she was… resigned 

“Wynonna, what’s going on?” Waverly was definitely scared and she needed to know what to be afraid of.

“Nothing, just go inside.” When Waverly didn’t move, Wynonna looked over her shoulder and told her to go inside, _now_.

And so she did, gathering the blanket up and marching towards the house, relieved at not having to deal with whatever was out there but pissed to be relegated to the sidelines _again._  

Once inside the house, Waverly stood by the back window, watching the impenetrable darkness for the enemy Wynonna was fighting. Moments later, Wynonna burst through the front door. She smelled sharp like fear-sweat.

“Creepy giant revenant alert!” She said, pointing an accusatory finger at the front door. “Moves through shadows, sucks in light, whispers things _very_ high on the disturb-o-meter.”

Waverly couldn’t remember anything in her research about light-sucking revenants, but maybe if she could just— 

“Waverly, you need to hide!” Waverly saw the whites of Wynonna’s eyes glowing through the darkness. Whatever she had just faced had really, really freaked her out.

“What? No! No way!” Waverly pounded her fist in her palm for emphasis. She was done hiding.

Wynonna pushed her towards the stairs. “Just until I get Peacemaker back!”

“You _lost_ Peacemaker?!” Waverly wasn’t afraid anymore. She was pissed.

“Just get in a closet, or under the bed—anywhere the darkness can’t find you!” Wynonna flung a finger towards the upstairs.

That made Waverly madder. “Those _are_ the dark places! And hiding didn’t help me last time!”

 _You can’t protect me, Wynonna. You can’t even protect yourself. But maybe we can protect each other._ Her sister was so fucking _infuriating_ sometimes. Wynonna ran herself ragged trying to keep herself two steps ahead of everything that was trying to pull her down, alone. She didn’t want Waverly’s help, yet she was overwhelmed. She didn’t want to tell Waverly what they were up against, but she needed her knowledge. She wanted Waverly to be safe but wouldn’t tell her what was after her. Even after years of “finding herself” she was still an impulsive, flighty mess, a poor communicator, scared and angry. And Waverly was sacred and angry, too.

“Waves,” Wynonna’s voice was suddenly soft. “Shadowman is one of the revenants that took Daddy and Willa.”

“Oh god.” Waverly exhaled against her steepled fingers, her anger at Wynonna transferring unbridled onto a more worthy target. She grabbed her shotgun.

“If that shit ticket thinks he’s coming in here uninvited again!” She cocked her gun, aiming for the door. She was going to make him _pay._ “He is _wrong_. I’ll cover you, go!" 

“I love when you say shit ticket!” Wynonna chuckled as she rushed out the door. Waverly bounced on the balls of her feet, waiting, watching.

For nothing, apparently. Waverly could barely see Wynonna through the darkness, swinging around, waiting to fight whichever resurrected outlaw the shadow monster turned out to be.

“Okay, where is this thing?” Waverly wondered. She saw Wynonna spin, look towards her, and freeze. Then she pointed and yelled:

“Waverly, behind you!”

Waverly whipped around. She saw two red pinpricks through the darkness, way above her, and heard a sinister voice that hissed, “You can try to hide from me, little wolf, but I’ll always be able to sniff you out.”

Waverly’s scream hurt her throat as she ducked through the darkness and fought her way outside. She and Wynonna ran to Gus’s truck, which sputtered and refused to start.

“Run! I’ll hold him off.” Wynonna pleaded.

“No! N-no way!” Waverly glared at her sister. “Okay? This is Earp land, _our_ land!”

“We can’t hold of revenants from it!” Wynonna pleaded with her. “Not until we find the talisman—”

“I know!” Waverly cried. “I know because I’m the one who buried it!”

Wynonna gaped at her before fumbling her way out of the truck. Waverly followed her by sliding over the center console and out the driver’s side door. Wynonna raced towards the house.

“It’s in the pet cemetery!” Waverly called after her. Wynonna spun on her heels and began running in the right direction.

“Not judging you or anything, kid!” Wynonna panted as she passed her. “But why’d you do it?”

“Bobo wanted me to! He tricked me!” Waverly struggled to catch up as they trudged up the hill towards the pet cemetery.

“That makes sense,” Wynonna spat. “Have the baby of the family—wait, do you think he’s a revenant?”

“Oh! Good idea!” The gleam in his eyes, his predatory smile, the way he knew all about Waverly and her family and their problems. _Of course._ “Bobo never crossed the fence-line!”

“He probably couldn’t,” Wynonna wheezed. Waverly’s cardigan billowed out behind her, creating drag. She shrugged it off and continued racing after her sister.

“He said it had to be an Earp,” Waverly explained, her voice squeaking from exertion. “That if I buried the talisman in the pet cemetery, it would stop mom and dad from fighting!”

She and Wynonna sank to their knees beside Pikachu the Hamster’s grave. “It’s here,” she panted as she began digging with her shotgun. At least she hoped she was digging. She couldn’t see a thing.

Waverly heard the crunching of dirt under tires as a large vehicle pulled up behind them. Wynonna greeted Dolls and then fired a shot above Waverly’s head. It _pinged_ off something metallic.

“What was that sound?” Wynonna asked.

Something burst through the surface of Waverly’s brain, something about bulletproof vests and their precursors. “Of course! Jim Miller! Killer Miller! He used to wear a metal plate, like an old-timey bullet-proof vest! It’s gotta be him!”

“Wow.” Dolls sounded almost impressed. “Your research is impeccable.”

“Thank you!” Waverly preened, grateful for the opportunity to be useful, somehow. She continued to move dirt with her shotgun while Wynonna lured Miller towards her with a flare. Waverly watched Wynonna shot him four times in the back, causing beams of light to jut out from his chest. Then he turned and Wynonna shot him between the eyes. Daylight returned as soon as he was engulfed in the hellfire that pulled him back to where he belonged.

Waverly let go of the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Wynonna ordered her to find the talisman, so Waverly bent down and began digging with her shotgun again.

“Hey guys, don’t worry about me!” She said, waving her hand flippantly as she flung a miniscule amount of dirt away from herself. “I got this!”

With a strangled cry, a gray-haired man wielding an axe rushed towards Wynonna. Dolls charged at him, pushing, strangling, headbutting and striking him with the handle of his own axe until the man lay crumpled by his feet.

“Finish him!” Waverly yelled. This was good. They had handled a shadow demon, so they could handle some random axe murderer too.

“No!” Wynonna stalked toward the man. She pressed her slipper-clad foot on his chest. “I need him to send a message.”

Waverly began digging again, frantic to find the stupid talisman so they could all be safe again. She heard Wynonna tell the man that she was coming for the revenants who took Willa, assert that _she_ was the heir, and promise to blow them all to Hell. Waverly had never been more proud.

The muzzle of her shotgun hit something brittle. She grabbed at the tweed-wrapped package and shook it out. It was a collection of bones, held together with wire. The talisman.

“Got it!” Waverly yelled, gripping the end of the talisman in one hand and whipping it in circles above her head. “Okay! Batter up!”

She let go. The talisman sailed cross the boundary, taking the revenant with it as though he was tugged over by invisible strings.

Waverly bounded up to Wynonna and Dolls, who were frozen in place. “It worked!” She yelled, giddy with excitement at their success. They remained stoic, wearing matching determined expressions when Waverly glanced at their faces.

“Oh, come on!” She pleaded, hysterical relief bubbling her voice. “That was hilarious!”

* * *

 It felt anticlimactic to go to work the next day as if Waverly hadn’t faced _another_ revenant and almost died _again._ She didn’t appreciate having to drive half an hour just to get to work, nor was she thrilled about having to factor gas to and from Shorty’s into her already constrained budget. 

At least she had the early shift tonight, so she could take the night off and begin packing, or maybe just sleep somewhere that wasn’t Wynonna’s dingy couch. It would take a bunch of work to make the homestead a home for them, and truthfully Waverly wasn’t sure she even wanted to try.

Waverly opened her door tentatively as though whoever had broken in might still be there. Except for the bed, her room looked the same: cluttered but neat. One of her family history boxes was overturned on the bed, its contents strewn around. Waverly held her breath as she walked over and began shifting through the wreckage. Her things were clearly rifled through, but every document she had so meticulously gathered was still there. She was putting all the files and journals back into the box when it hit her: her ledger was gone, the one with the names of over sixty possible revenants and their aliases. _Shit. Shit shit shit._

Waverly checked the other box just to make sure she hadn’t missed it. Nope. It was gone. _Fuck_. She searched the rest of her apartment _just in case_ , but she wasn’t careless. It was gone. Stolen. Taken from her, its information lost unless she could somehow find it again. She didn’t have a backup. Waverly’s eyes and chest burned. The ledger was her proof, the culmination of her work and her ticket to ending the curse. She’d worked for _hours_ on it. _Years_.

Even though she felt like screaming, throwing up and continuing to search her apartment in vain, her shift had already started. Waverly slipped on a Shorty’s shirt and a pair of shorts, tied her hair in a messy ponytail, and reluctantly made her way downstairs. Her stomach was flipping itself over in grief and bitter disappointment.

The lunchtime crowd trickled in, ordering a hot meal and cold beer even though it was only eleven in the morning. Waverly put on a wide, fake smile and did her work efficiently. Being a barmaid wasn’t the most intellectually challenging work, nor was it going to help break the curse, but it paid the bills and Waverly was _good_ at it.

It was a shred of normalcy in an otherwise topsy-turvy chapter of her life; one that she had a nagging suspicion was only just beginning. And it’s not like Waverly hadn’t felt this coming. The months leading up to Wynonna’s 27th birthday had crackled like the air before a thunderstorm. Little warnings had started about six months ago: gruff men showed up in town for the first time in years, the beavers built dams four times as thick as normal, the potato crop caught a blight, and Waverly felt each month’s almost-transformation more intensely than she had since she was a child.

Then Uncle Curtis had died, suddenly, tragically, which ushered in the start of the curse in earnest. Wynonna showed up, angry and impulsive as ever, determined that their family’s curse was _her_ destiny and hers alone even though she’d spent the last few years doing fuck knows what while Waverly prepared for it tirelessly. Waverly was really over her life being in grave danger on a regular basis for no other reason than her connection to her sister. She was more than bait: she was an asset, full of knowledge, and enough of a threat that the revenants should be quaking in their boots.

It killed her that Wynonna was _still_ refusing her help even though she was the one who identified the revenant and found the talisman last night. What help was Dolls, anyway? He was a random Deputy Marshall in a division no one had heard of who had no sense of humor _and_ no intimate knowledge of the ins and outs of the curse _and_ no clue about who or what they were up against. Why did he get to be involved?

Sheriff Nedley walked into the bar at four. He tipped his hat at Waverly and made his way over to a quiet table near the front. She grabbed an empty glass and filled it with beer. She thought about the new officer in town as she jiggled the loose tap back into place—Officer Haught was her name. _Nicole_ Haught.

Waverly couldn’t believe she’d met someone new while drenched in beer. Purgatory didn’t _get_ new people, especially not new people with suave smiles and kind eyes that caused all sorts of pulses and pressure in places Waverly didn’t even want to begin to understand.

Waverly couldn’t remember if Champ’s initial interest in her had left her winded or if thinking about him made her heart jolt. It must have, right? It had been so long since she’d felt real tingles because they were at a point in their relationship where tingles didn’t happen anymore. What they had was good. Familiar. Easy. Fun, sometimes. More fun than if they weren’t dating. He was good for her because he was a cute boy from a good family who liked her and was willing to ignore her last name and her history. He was the best could do and even if intellectually she knew she was settling at least she was settling for someone she _liked_.

Waverly knew that looking up into Officer Haught’s eyes had left her breathless. Waverly had already memorized her phone number and worn out her card from looking at it so often, but she had yet to work up the courage to call. Maybe it was a fluke. Or it was different, with women. She’d flirted with Waverly, but maybe she was like that with everyone? Some people were just stupidly charming. Officer Haught was totally the kind of person who took everybody’s breath away, probably without even realizing it.

That didn’t mean she liked her. Waverly didn’t even know if she could. Did she like women? Did Nicole? Waverly couldn’t remember being interested in any before. They were never an option; she spent her high school years being normal—not cursed, traumatized, smarter or different than anyone—and the years after graduation maintaining those lies and the friendships she’d cultivated around them.

So figuring out her sexuality when there was literally a demon apocalypse threatening the lives of everyone around her was, like, the _most_ inopportune time. Even if Nicole’s dimples haunted her dreams.

Waverly just wanted some things to stay the same. She liked her job. She liked her boyfriend. She liked her research. Wynonna’s return should have added things to her life—a closer relationship with her sister, for instance—without taking away everything stable Waverly had worked so hard to build. She wanted to be easygoing so she’d be included in whatever Wynonna was planning but this much change this fast terrified her. And the constant reminders of the worst times in her life weren’t helping her sleep, skin or mood.

Her shift continued, uninteresting as ever. Champ walked in half an hour before her it ended, a charming smile on his face.

“Hey,” he nodded as he sat down at the bar. “You never texted me.”

Waverly smacked her forehead. “Oh! You know, I completely forgot. Last night was _ridiculous._ ”

“Yeah?” Champ raised his eyebrows.

“Yep!” Waverly chirped, pouring him a beer and setting it down on the bar in front of him. Then she leaned against it, closer to him. She smiled. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Champ said through a mouthful of beer. “I took my test today.”

“Oh! How’d it go?”

“I have a good feeling, Wave,” Champ grinned. “I think I might have passed this time.”

Waverly grinned back. “That’s super awesome.”

The doors of the bar slammed open and Wynonna stormed in. She slid up next to Champ and shouldered him out of the way.

“Scram,” she said, knocking into him again. “I want to talk to my sister.”

Waverly grimaced and shrugged. Champ rolled his eyes, but he obliged.

“ _Wynonna_ ,” Waverly complained. “Why did you have to—”

Wynonna interrupted her. “We need to talk. I mean, uh, I have something to ask you. Tell you.”

“And that couldn’t wait until later?” Waverly gestured to the mostly-empty bar. “I’m _working_.” 

“Nope,” Wynonna grinned and gestured for Waverly to pour her a pint. “Plus, I’m pretty sure Shorty doesn’t pay you to spend time with your douche-canoe boyfriend instead of seeing to customers.”

Waverly glared and set the beer out of reach behind the counter. “I don’t get paid to be insulted by you, either,” she reminded her.

“Your shift ends in twenty minutes.” Wynonna knit her eyebrows and rolled her eyes a little, like it was common knowledge. She leaned over the bar to grab the beer. “I figured I’d come pick you up, and we could finish the cookout that was _so rudely_ interrupted last night.”

Wynonna remembered. She knew when her shift was over and had come to get her. That was unexpected. And pleasant.

“Dolls was—” Wynonna shook her head and started over. “ _I_ was impressed last night. You were clear-headed and,” she glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to hear her, “ _way_ more knowledgeable than I gave you credit for.”

A slow smile spread across Waverly’s face as Wynonna’s words sank in. “Finally!” She exclaimed, hitting Wynonna with her towel. “It’s about time!”

Wynonna scowled and slid off of her stool. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, you were right. Congrats.” She walked towards the stairs that led up to Waverly’s room, beer in hand.

“Wait, Wynonna?” Waverly called after her. “Where are you going?”

“To start packing you up?” Wynonna squinted and shrugged like it was obvious.

Waverly held her arms out, palms up. “I never agreed to that!”

“I actually _cleaned_ today,” Wynonna said over her shoulder. “I _dusted_. For _you_.”

Waverly rolled her eyes and filled another pint of beer as an apology for Champ. She had more exciting things going on tonight.

* * *

The overwhelming sense of _wrongness_ Waverly had felt the last time she pulled up to the homestead was gone. In its place was serenity and hope. They were safe with the ammolite working again. The homestead wasn’t perfect, but it was going to be a home. For the both of them.

Wynonna had already set up the campfire, including two chairs with blankets folded messily on top of them and a cooler between them. Wynonna set to lighting the fire while Waverly dug through the cooler. She found a package each of hot dogs and marshmallows nestled in among endless bottles of beer and cider.

“Okay, so,” Wynonna began once the fire was roaring and they were sitting down, curled towards each other and snuggled under their blankets. Wynonna smoothed her palms against her thighs. “Black Badge is interested in you—”

Waverly squealed and clapped. Finally! Finally! _Finally!_

“Do I get a badge?” She paused with her hands clasped under her chin, visions of flashing a badge, talking though a watch-phone, somersaulting under a closing door and taking out a circle of revenants with a wall of fire flashing before her. “A code name? Oh my god: a flame thrower?”

“You will be a Black Badge _consultant_ ,” Wynonna said, drawing out the last word for emphasis. “And remember our deal: you move in here with me.”

“As long as I get to pick the new color scheme,” Waverly threatened. “I’m thinking _lots_ of pink.”

Wynonna brandished Peacemaker. “Just try it, kid.”

They carried on for a while after that, teasing each other as they watched Purgatory’s newest Earper, Henry—who was now wearing Champ’s jeans, which meant he was the thief and had probably taken the ledger to sell on eBay or something she’d grill him about later before getting it back—fix their mailbox. When he tipped his hat and ambled away into the darkness, Waverly steeled herself to bring up what had been weighing on her since figuring out that she was the one who had buried the talisman.

“I’ve been blaming you for what happened to Daddy… to Willa,” she shook her head in disbelief. “ _I_ was the one who planted the talisman. It’s my fault.”

“Bobo tricked you.” Wynonna was quick to remind her.

“Still—” Waverly was the reason the revenants had been able to attack the homestead that night.

“And when I find your not-so-imaginary friend,” Wynonna stressed, “oh, honey, I’m gonna make him pay.”

“Just be careful, okay?” Someone who had no qualms about manipulating a child in order to kidnap her father and sister was someone who would not hesitate to hurt Wynonna, too. 

“Yeah.” Wynonna chuckled bitterly. “Careful’s not really my style.” 

They were quiet for a moment before Wynonna’s face tightened.

“Besides,” she smirked. “How scared can you be of a guy named _Bobo_?”

Waverly thought for a moment and then laughed. “Truthfully, not very.” She swallowed, then continued: “I don’t remember Mom and what I remember of Dad was him pushing me away, after… Bobo was there for me, y’know?”

Waverly shivered. He wasn’t there _for_ her. He was there to _use_ her.

“It was hard for mom and dad after you were bitten,” Wynonna whispered. “Daddy didn’t know how to handle you not being human anymore. And then mama left. It was hard for him.”

Blood rushed to Waverly’s head. Gus’s insistence that they never speak ill of the dead shattered.

“So that made it right when they stopped _loving_ me? God, Wynonna, you’ll do anything to protect them!” Waverly spat. “Willa tormented me for two years and Daddy pretended I had died and Mom _left_ because of me.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Tears pooled at the edges of Wynonna’s red-rimmed eyes. “You think I didn’t notice how everyone treated you? How they blamed you for something that wasn’t your fault?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Waverly mumbled.

Wynonna looked down at her lap. “I tried to keep everyone together, Waverly. I tried to stop them from fighting when we found you in the woods half-dead. I tried to protect you, distract you, love you the same but it didn’t make up for everyone else.”

Waverly bit her cheek to hold back tears.

“You’re right,” she said. She picked at a stray thread on her blanket.

Wynonna bent over, plucked a handful of dry grass, and rubbed it between her fingers. Then she threw it onto the fire, where it caused a shower of sparks to rise up towards the sky.

“It doesn’t make it right,” Wynonna added. “Nothing will. Mama left was because she was a coward, Waves. Daddy was angry because he’d failed to protect you. And Willa… Willa lashed out because she was angry with Mama and Daddy and with being the next heir.”

Waverly nodded. A barrage of emotions prevented her from speaking.

“They left me too, Waverly,” Wynonna whispered so softly Waverly wasn’t sure if she heard her. “They failed both of us and it _destroyed_ me. They failed me and then I failed you because I couldn’t handle what I’d done, I couldn’t handle myself and I couldn’t let you be ruined with me.”

Wynonna swiped at her face, rubbing away her tears before they had a chance to fall. “I couldn’t handle half the shit you did, babygirl. I don’t know what kind of miracle you are to be the strongest and smartest and kindest one out of all of us. 

“You forgot prettiest.” Waverly laughed through her tears. She rubbed Wynonna’s leg in support.

“Hey!” Wynonna tugged on the end of her ponytail. “Leave me something to feel good about!”

Waverly smiled so wide her eyes closed. She felt Wynonna reach out and grab her hand, running her thumb over a healed scar on her wrist. When Waverly opened her eyes, Wynonna was beaming at her. Her dimples were deep and her eyes, while weary, were clear and looking right at Waverly.

Waverly ducked her head and tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. When she looked up, Wynonna was still smiling at her. Waverly smiled back.

It was like Wynonna was seeing her for the first time. Like she was looking at a smart and charming twenty-one-year-old who could hit a moving target with her shotgun, drive a jeep in any weather and collate data better than most. Like she was beginning to realize that Waverly’s scars weren’t just external and that they went way deeper than just what happened the night of the attack. Like she was surprised by all that Waverly could do.

Waverly knew she’d never stop being Wynonna’s baby sister. But she also knew that now, she wasn’t the baby: she was a capable adult who Wynonna respected and needed.

And that made Waverly really, really happy.

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to thank whoever it was on tumblr that commented on the gifset of Nicole with the green ring saying that she was either a vampire or a werewolf. I can't remember who left that comment (and I can't seem to find that post again) so if someone wants to point me in their direction I will edit this and give them credit where credit is due. I know it's not the most original idea, but I was inspired and now I have over 3,600 words of an outline so it's too late, I'm committed, I can't stop/won't stop.
> 
> Also, if anyone is interested in beta reading, please let me know. I'd love a second opinion. 
> 
> My tumblr is glitteribbur. Come say hi!


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